


I am not afraid of the dark

by comeoutcomeout



Category: X Factor (UK) RPF, X Factor RPF
Genre: Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Consensual Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-13
Updated: 2011-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-16 22:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeoutcomeout/pseuds/comeoutcomeout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiden is a bit intense, but that's nothing new! The week after Aiden is voted off, after being back at the studios to rehearse/perform the charity single, Maiden engage in a little erotic asphyxiation. Aiden is an active participant in his own submission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am not afraid of the dark

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own or profit from these people, just playing with their lovely likenesses. With fair certainty, I can say this never happened! Title courtesy of the song 'Distant Sun' by Crowded House.
> 
> **This is FANTASY. If you’re going to engage in any kind of breath-play yourself, for goodness’ sake do your research and be safe.**

Matt and Aiden exist in their own time zone, so as usual they are the last to emerge from the stage door of the studio. There is one black car left waiting in the lot.

Aiden sidesteps out of the lamplight from above the door and leans back against the cold brick wall. Matt stops opposite him, stands close, his usual state of disregarding the conventions of personal space. Tonight, Aiden is grateful to be the taller one; he can almost pass it off as mere physics that he's staring straight over Matt's head and into the middle distance.

They've already been through goodbye once, this time last week, but it won't have got any easier.

Matt fidgets with his too-long cardigan sleeves, stretching them down over his fists. “You should come back to the house.” He watches Aiden drop his head in response.  
“Matt, I don't even...”  
Matt interrupts with a deep breath and what almost sounds like a practised explanation. “Chauffeurs and bouncers are the best at don't ask, don't tell, you know that. And c'mon, it's not like Zayn hasn't already sneaked Geneva back there.”

Aiden smiles quickly to himself, because he doesn't half mind being Matt's dirty little secret, and eventually looks up. He racks focus and finally looks at Matt's face. Matt is staring at Aiden's mouth again, and it isn't the first time Aiden's noticed him doing that this weekend, since they've been skipping up and down the corridors filming Brokeback Maiden at Savan's behest.

All Aiden says is “yeah.”

They both know it could mean absolutely anything, contextually, but when the car honks its horn and Matt grabs Aiden's elbow, neither are surprised when Aiden follows Matt into the back seat without objection.

The ride is short and they don't speak to each other, because sometimes it's nice to enjoy a few moments where you aren't contractually obliged to be a 'personality'. When the car pulls up, it's Matt who hooks his pinky finger around Aiden's, but it's Aiden who leads them through the yard to the dark side of the house.

There's a back door that goes into the laundry – by unspoken house rule it's never locked, to bail people out of late-night food runs, or rendezvous. Aiden backs himself up against the wall again and pulls Matt in, stopping just short of flush against him. Here in the dark, he doesn't look down, or past Matt.

He reaches and grasps Matt's right wrist, brings it to his mouth, presses pillow lips against Matt's tattoo. Lets his eyes flutter shut, because he can get lost in Matt as if Matt were music itself. The tip of his tongue traces the cursive shape of the capital A.

Matt just watches Aiden's mouth.

Aiden kisses up Matt's palm, nips at the loose skin around the base of his thumb, eventually sucks the tip of the digit into his mouth. He tries to listen out for the crickets chirping, or the nearby motorway traffic, but all he really hears is Matt's soft, concerted breathing, roaring like a waterfall in his ears.

Matt pulls his hand out of Aiden's grip and Aiden opens his eyes. Just sometimes, Matt wonders whether this teenager has been round the block more times than Matt himself. But he'll never know how to ask the question, so all he gets out is “Aiden” and he watches as the cloud of his breath in the cold night air disappears into the pale mouth in front of him as the boy inhales.

Aiden smiles a brilliantly wide grin that breaks the tension, then grabs Matt by the shoulders and closes the gap between them. He hears Matt gasp into his neck as Matt realises the younger man is already hard. In this moment, Aiden's never seemed so young.

Matt pushes Aiden further back against the wall, almost instinctively, and finally kisses him like he hasn't been able to do all day. He thinks about how his hand nearly hadn't made it to cover Aiden's mouth in front of the cameras, with the way Aiden had looked at him through startlingly dilated pupils and puckered those stupidly perfect lips.

What Matt doesn't know, yet, is that Aiden is thinking about how much he wants to feel Matt's hand pressed over his mouth again. Harder.

Aiden stretches a long arm blindly out to his left and feels for the laundry door handle. A push, and he hears the satisfying slide; unlocked, just as he remembered it. “Come on. Inside,” he says, and sounds remarkably in control.

The noise of Paije’s farewell party begins to seep out and Matt takes the hint, guiding Aiden into the house and up to their old shared bedroom with an innocuous hand around the waist. Matt’s fingers squeeze experimentally into Aiden’s hip through his clothes, and Aiden squirms into the possessive touch.

Through the door into what is now Matt’s private room, and immediately Aiden is pushing the door shut and Matt up against it in one fell swoop. Memories of a week ago flood back, of being torn apart by some hateful arbitrary vote count, and suddenly they’re kissing like not a second more can be lost, all open-mouthed desperation and tongues that haven’t quite learnt how to work with each other yet.

Matt slips his hands up under Aiden’s hoodie and grasps skin that’s soft and beginning to sweat. Aiden shrugs his coat off. They break apart to breathe and Aiden rests his forehead against the door in front of him, his hot breath blowing down the open neck of Matt’s shirt. When they meet again, teeth clash together and Aiden gets a chill like fingernails on a blackboard. Matt feels goosebumps rise on Aiden’s sides under his fingertips and caresses them slowly, delicately, as if they’re Braille and he’s trying to commit every minute detail of the story to memory.

Eventually, because he knows Aiden will probably always be too guarded to say it first, Matt announces simply “bed,” and pushes Aiden carefully but intently across the room.

Aiden kicks off his boots, discards socks and hoodie and unzips the fly of his trousers for good measure, before he sprawls onto the mattress. The scent of Matt envelops him from all angles, embedded as it is in the pillow and linen. Cigarettes, hair gel, cider, masturbation. Matt unbuttons his shirt halfway before impatience takes hold and he pulls it off over his head. Aiden smiles an open, wicked grin at the sight of that torso, those sculpted arms, which Matt is too often hiding away beneath layers of cardigan and shyness.

Matt toes off his trainers and pops the fly of his jeans, relieving the pressure on his straining cock. He crawls up the mattress to hover over Aiden.

Aiden takes a moment to trace with his eyes the smooth, firm lines of Matt’s shoulders and biceps. He muses that it makes sense, this. _Them_. Matt has never quite worked out what to do with his masculinity; where to fit it in between giggling and his falsetto and the emotions he wears on his sleeve. But Aiden would lift that burden in a second; steal that last puzzle piece that he thinks might turn him into a man, Jimmy Dean, instead of the awkward teenage boy he fears he may never outgrow.

Together, though, Matt and Aiden lay themselves bare, just as they are, and each completes the other.

“What are you thinking?” Matt asks, shaking his head slightly at the impossible creature beneath him.  
Aiden blinks away his reverie and cranes his neck up to capture Matt’s mouth, already dark and swollen. Matt responds by tilting his hips and grinding their cocks together slowly.

When Aiden drops his head back onto the pillow, the only thing left for Matt to read on his face is lust.  
“Earlobe,” Aiden suddenly blurts out, confident in the darkness, and Matt’s eyes narrow for just a moment while his brain computes the demand. He drops to an elbow on one side and his other hand slides languidly along Aiden’s forearm, over a sheath of bracelets, to pin a wrist to the bed. He drags his stubble up Aiden’s jaw line and feels as much as he hears the low groan that Aiden tries to stifle in the back of his throat.

“It’s a party downstairs, babe,” Matt whispers, and flicks his tongue out to lick at the soft flesh of Aiden’s ear. “They won’t hear you tonight.” He takes Aiden’s earlobe in his mouth and sucks – firm, gentle, a hint of teeth. Aiden feels it all the way down his spine and through his cock and lets out a loud moan, throws his head back, wraps his free arm around the small of Matt’s back. In spite of the limitations of TV share-housing, Matt knows Aiden is actually more vocal during sex than most would suspect, and he hopes he never gets tired of making Aiden forget himself like this.

After a minute, when it hurts a bit too good, Aiden grabs Matt around the back of the neck and pushes him off to lie side by side, Matt resting in the crook of Aiden’s elbow. Aiden’s cheeks are flushed crimson, he’s breathing hard, and Matt laughs warmly at him. Aiden’s hips wriggle and thrust slightly, like he’s trying to gain friction from the air alone.

“How’d you find that out?” Matt ask, because he can never know too much about Aiden Grimshaw.  
Aiden grimaces, bites his lip. “School dances...you know...” Matt’s hand has wandered down Aiden’s chest to tease a nipple, and eventually he pinches it between calloused fingers. “Fuck!” Aiden gasps, but still finishes his train of thought. “...Girls who won’t go down.”

Matt groans as his thoughts race almost faster than he can keep up with, imagining bringing Aiden to orgasm just from sucking his ears. _That can’t be true, can it?_ He files the new knowledge away to test out at a later date. “Anything else I might like to know?” Matt questions, and licks his lips without thinking.

Aiden rolls Matt back on top of him, Matt straddling one of Aiden’s legs. Aiden grabs the wrist that Matt isn’t supporting himself with and manoeuvres Matt’s hand to cover his mouth. Matt removes it automatically, immediately, because it hasn’t made sense in his head yet that Aiden might be inviting him to do this; to possess him so completely. Aiden just looks at him, with eyes that say _trust me_ so clearly, so calmly, that Matt feels like he shouldn’t trust him at all. Aiden takes Matt’s wrist and moves it again and Matt’s touching Aiden’s parted lips with his fingers, tracing their shape, the perfect peaks and troughs of his Cupid’s bow, the straight edge of his bottom teeth…and then Aiden pulls the palm back down over his mouth and stares Matt down. He stretches his free hand round to the back of Matt’s jeans and boxers, shoves the fabric down and grabs Matt’s arse, forcing their hips closer together.

Matt goes with it, because he thinks with his dick first and his head later like any man, and he listens to the way Aiden breathes raggedly through his nose, partly obstructed by the finger pushed up underneath his nostrils. Aiden enjoys it, it’s clear from his eyes, and Matt removes his hand when he can’t wait any longer to kiss the sultry pout he knows is hiding under there.

“What’s it like?” Matt asks when they separate.  
Aiden mulls over a responses. He could say _dying_ , or _flying_ , _living_... None of these are real answers, though. Just bad poetry. It's something he can't describe. He settles for “trust me.”

He takes Matt’s wrist again and guides it this time to his throat. He rolls his hips in circles beneath Matt, like encouragement, even as he feels Matt tense and try to pull his arm away. “You can do this,” Aiden says calmly. The intonation is ambiguous; Matt can’t tell whether it’s an invitation he’s being extended, or whether Aiden’s just acknowledging that he’d have no choice but to submit to the man above him if Matt wanted that. Matt settles his thumb under the jaw bone on one side, four fingers on the other, and slowly...slowly leans in.

Aiden knows the stages. He recognises the sparkle that encroaches from the periphery, like video white noise. The rush of blood he can hear amplified in his ears. Then it’s the blue hue that falls across his vision as all the oxygen is exhausted and his body starts to worry. (He also knows it’s a grey hue for too much humidity, and pink for too much pain...) And he looks at Matt for what might be the last time, but he sees him like it’s the first time ever, clarity and ecstasy the only things left coursing through his arteries. He tries to swallow and it feels like his voice box is crushed and he’s frightened, just for a moment, before his eyes start to roll back in his head.

And Matt stops.

All the weight comes off Aiden’s throat and he feels a caress down the side of his face, urgent but like it’s a million miles distant. It takes half a second for the reflex to kick in and then he gasps sharply, inhaling all the air between them, and Matt lowers his forehead to rest lightly against Aiden’s.

Matt’s whole body is shaking, pumped full of fear and sexual energy. It crosses his mind that Aiden would let him kill him, and that can’t be right, but his cock throbs at the thought that Aiden trusts him so much.

Matt feels a hand on his cock, stroking firmly, and recognises the soft billows between each knuckle. Aiden’s trying to take both of their cocks in one fist, and it’s awkward, but they’re horny, so it works. He hooks an ankle around the back of Matt's leg, intimate even through denim. Matt kisses him all over his face, taking in bruised lips, cheeks, jaw, neck. And then he feels it – the distinct rise of an Adam ’s apple against his mouth – and he registers that Aiden is tipping his head back and presenting his throat to Matt again like a peacock presents plumage. Aiden tries to voice something, but all he gets out is a rasp, his throat still dry and slightly contracted. The meaning is clear enough, though.

Aiden squeezes their cocks in his fist and Matt thrusts into the pressure. This whole thing has brought him closer than he’d like to admit. He tries to recollect some fact he might know about how long you can survive without breathing, but then Aiden catches his eye and looks at him wantonly, a little broken, and Matt can’t decide whether the distressed look is from the choking itself or the desperate need for more.

He breathes in and watches Aiden mirror beneath him, their diaphragms and chests filling and pressing together. Then he places his hand across Aiden’s throat again, and watches for Aiden to blink pointedly before he pushes down. Matt counts to five in his head, and at six he can still feel Aiden jerking their cocks and bucking his hips up under him. Matt feels his balls tighten and he starts again at one, gets to three before it hits him that this is stupidly dangerous and he needs to take his cues from Aiden.

Matt leans his face down close to Aiden’s, lips lightly against lips, his mouth just hanging open as he pants because he knows Aiden can’t move enough to reciprocate. He can feel Aiden’s cock throbbing against his and he notices Aiden’s fist loosening, stilling, so he lifts his hand off Aiden’s neck immediately.

A beat; silent. Matt’s holding his breath too. And then Aiden breathes in suddenly, hungrily, all the air in the room, and exhales which a cry as his stomach clenches and he comes against Matt’s belly in three hard spurts.

Matt grabs his own cock in his hand, warm from Aiden’s throat, and grunts “Christ” as he pumps a couple times and catches up with Aiden.

As they recover lying next to each other, Matt tries to be quiet, be conscious of every natural sound Aiden makes. Eventually he comes round to asking, “What you said earlier, about the girls...” He scoffs good-naturedly. “ _Girls?_ ”  
Aiden rolls in towards Matt, smiles with sleepy, hooded eyes. Matt doesn't miss the tinge of blue still playing on his lips. “Boys go down in Blackpool, mate!”  
Matt scrunches up his nose and tries to hide the hint of second-hand embarrassment.

**Author's Note:**

> It's nice to see the hitcount go up, but please please also consider leaving a comment or kudos...? Warm my heart :) Concrit also welcome.


End file.
